One Night Away from Hell
by Mayya
Summary: One night, one shot, two cousins.


**Summary:** A Sirius/Bellatrix fic. One shot. Just meant to be a taste of a really long Bellatrix story I'm working on that covers her whole life. If you like this keep tuning in for that one to appear! Don't expect them to be especially similar though. 

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter. J K Rowling does. I'm just playing with her toys.

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_Sirius' POV_

This is wrong,I say to her. I try to look away, to turn around and just leave her there, in the deserted corridor. But it is impossible, I cannot turn away from her. She is so beautiful tonight. Her eyes – her beautiful, almost black eyes, how I adore those eyes! They have such a fire in them, filled with passion and desire. 

I know. It's probably the most wrong thing we'll ever do, she answers with a faint smile, and puts her long-fingered hand on my cheek. Her skin is very pale, but still it is so soft and she smells like a rose, such vivid contrasts to her personality! 

But you want to anyway? I ask her nervously. I wonder if she's just making a fool out of me. A girl like Bellatrix, not only a Slytherin but a callous, stunningly beautiful one, would she go with an outcast like me, and not only an outcast but also her cousin? It's all so wrong, and yet we are both yearning for each other. Every inch of her body is so perfect, so fulfilled.

she says quietly. I can't remember hearing her speak so quietly ever before. I stretch out my hand and she takes it. Hers is pale and soft, mine is brown and rough. I lead her to the seventh floor, and she doesn't even object to me taking the lead. It's not like her. She hates following, just like I do. But for her it doesn't stop there - she's powerful. She holds everone and everything in her hands. Even me. Maybe that's why she let's me decide where we are going. I stop in the middle of a corridor with entirely blank walls. I look at her and I see from her perplexed frown that she doesn't know what I know about this corridor. I tell her to concentrate on needing a bedroom. She giggles and her eyes are full of mischief. A fleeting memory of playing as children in a big mansion crosses my mind. I had forgotten that she could look like that. So happy. So innocently thrilled. So alive. 

After a mere moment I turn around to spot a door that wasn't there before. I smile at my lady and I open the door that leads to the Room of Requirement. I walk in first, and it doesn't strike me until we're both already inside that maybe I should have let her go before me. She doesn't seem to care, though, and just walks through the door after me. I look around with awe in my eyes. The only furniture is a bed. It's a giant one, with bedclothes of satin in red, green, gold and silver. A mixture of Slytherin and Gryffindor. Like us. 

I freeze there in the doorway, but she walks past me and respectlessly jumps up on the bed and sits down at its center with her legs crossed. Now, I'm supposed to be the most daring and reckless guy of our year, but I am petrified. It's not as if I've never done this before either, I've had more girls than the rest of the Gryffindor boys have had put together. But she is different. The way she looks at me, surveying me It's so clear in her eyes, she's not being playful and romantic, she's challenging me. We are two persons, two cousins, supposed to be equals, she - the Slytherin Lady, and me - the Gryffindor Lord, opposites, but still similar, and we have yet to see who will come out on top of all. 

Nobody is going to say that Sirius Black doesn't dare to take a challenge. I slowly walk toward the bed and jump up on it me too. She just keeps smiling at me like that, as if she is amused, as if she's waiting for me to prove what I can do. Well, I am gonna prove myself. She'll see, and she won't be smirking then. 

I tentatively put my hand on her shoulder. Her smirk only grows wider. I climb closer to her on the bed and start rubbing her body. I rub her shoulders, her back, I caress her neck and her breasts I love every moment. She is mine. Not in the reality that awaits us right outside this room, but this night she is mine, and I am hers. 

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_Bellatrix' POV_

He's sitting there in front of me, so scared, so shy. Not at all like they say. I have prepared myself for a night with an experienced, self-assured lover, not a shy schoolboy. I wonder if the stories I've heard of him were all lies. Maybe, if I smile like this, he'll get angry and show what he's worth Well, it does some good. He's touching me now, at least. It feels good, too His hands are the hands of an expert, and so are mine, even though the latter aren't joining in. Not yet. 

When I widen my smile he seems to get a bit angry. He moves a bit closer. That's good, but I want him to be closer still, so I put my arms around him and pull him closer. Then I help him get rid of those robes. Myself, I'm only wearing a black, slightly transparent negligé. It amazes me that Sirius, who always breaks the rules, is wearing proper robes. 

He has a gorgeous chest. I wish I had ripped his robes off, as if I were a wild cat. I should be more vivid, more vicious, like an animal. Suddenly I'm struck by a daring flash and I lick his nipples. He moans and I smile, which is unnecessary since he can't see it because of my long black hair falling down over my face. But I smile anyway, I feel like smiling. His hair is rather long and black too. Well, we _are_ cousins. And that also means we shouldn't be doing this. I hope to God that noone finds out That would be the end for me.

The same thought seems to have struck him, because he has turned into his usual self. It must be the sensation of doing something he shouldn't be doing that has made the shy boy phase disappear, it's almost as if he's grown up in just a few seconds. The way he kisses me; as if the world depended on it, as if it was his last kiss ever I kiss him back with equal passion and wrap my hands around his warm, muscular back. His skin is tanned, mine is pale. He greedily takes off my negligé, and we wrap our naked bodies tight together. 

Never before have I experienced such a delicate loving. Never before have I made love to someone quite like him. Someone who shares my passion. Not like my Rodolphus, Rodolphus is the ice I have to turn on fire. Sirius is already burning. Him and me are equals. 

He makes me lie down on the bed, and then he separates my legs and pushes himself in between them. He starts kissing my breasts, he sucks on them as though they were a treasure. I close my eyes while his tongue travels down to my stomach and he licks around my navel. I feel like I'm going to explode. I wonder if he's going to go further down, but he doesn't. I'm glad he doesn't, I don't want to make it too quick. 

I lie there like a pompous queen, not having to do anything, just enjoying myself. I merely clutch his brown back and respond to his kisses with all my heart while he enters me. I'm surprised that I don't feel a trace of pain, he handles me so different from how the lovers I am used to do. He thrusts and I sigh of pleasure. He thrusts again and I sigh louder, and for every thrust I feel as if he's pushing me one step closer to utopia. Soon we're both panting and almost shouting in fervour. We are such a perfect match, never before has the world seen a pair of lovers as passionate as us. 

When the tension finally releases I feel like I'm a bottle of champagne which has just been uncorked. We lie next to each other on the big bed, both of us feeling exactly the same. As if we're condemned to a lifetime in hell, and were lent a night in paradise. We stare into each other's equally gloomy eyes. I have to fight back tears. I know this can never happen again. We're just not meant to be. He knows that too. I turn away my eyes.

D'you know what I'm gonna do tomorrow night? he asks me. I shiver at the mere sound of his despaired voice. Oh, how I love him.

No, what? I reply. I know he's looking at me, but I keep staring at my nails. I can't look at him, I'd only cry, and I don't want to do that. 

I'm gonna drink so much Firewhisky that they'll have to carry me to the Infirmary, he says and his voice is very bitter and shaky. _Please, don't cry_, I think. I know I will too if he does.

You do that, I say and look into his eyes. Just make sure you don't say things you'll regret about us, I mean, I say and turn my gaze away again. 

You always worry so much, he says. I don't answer him. There's no need. We both know that he takes too many risks without thinking and that I worry and schieve too much and too carefully. 

I think I'll be burning my negligé tomorrow, I say instead. He doesn't ask why, he understands. He knows what memories are like. They can be so repressing. He doesn't blame me for wanting to get rid of future reminders. We always understand each other. Even though he's in Gryffindor and I'm in Slytherin.

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End file.
